Canadians know nothing about their activist Supreme Court. That’s dangerous.

First published in the National Post on July 16, 2018.

Frenzy overtook the United States when Supreme Court justice Anthony Kennedy announced his retirement last month. It was a far cry from when former Canadian chief justice Beverley McLachlin announced her retirement last year and Canadians breathed a collective “Who?”

This is among the starkest of differences between the political cultures and Canada and the United States.

In American politics, a Supreme Court vacancy means countless news cycles: weeks of speculation about potential nominees, followed by days of in-depth coverage about the nominee, capped off with weeks of confirmation hearings. This is because it’s significant. Putting the right justice on the bench can shape a president’s legacy in monumental ways.

In each of their eight years, Barack Obama and George W. Bush installed two Supreme Court justices. Donald Trump will accomplish the same with less than two years in office. If Trump wins a second term, he may well get another two vacancies to work with, with 85-year old Ruth Bader Ginsburg and 79-year old Stephen Breyer — both appointed by Bill Clinton — holding down the older side of the bench.

American politicians — and their voters, for that matter — understand the stakes of the court. Canadians couldn’t care less.

In Canada, there’s no drive to understand whether a potential justice is pro-life, or religious, or a strict constitutionalist. In the United States, these same people are lightning rods in the culture war over these very issues.

One could argue that having an expectation judges will rule along ideological lines based on who appointed them defeats the purpose of a supposedly apolitical judiciary. This is inevitable, however, when so much politics is dispensed from the judiciary. Our era is one of governance from the bench, meaning Canadians would do well to pay attention to what happens there.

American politicians — and their voters, for that matter — understand the stakes of the court. Canadians couldn’t care less

I asked a room full of politically-minded folks last week how many people could name a single Canadian Supreme Court justice (making sure to tell them McLachlin had retired.) I didn’t get a single response. This complacency undercuts our ability to be outraged — or even surprised — when the benchers make the wrong call.

The Trinity Western University ruling, for example. The majority of justices found that the Law Society of Upper Canada (now the Law Society of Ontario) infringed upon TWU’s Charter rights, but it was OK because the law society’s decision “represents a proportionate balance between the limitation on freedom of religion guaranteed by s. 2 (a) of the Charter and the statutory objectives that the LSUC sought to pursue.”

In other words, the court ruled that the constitution, instead of having the final say, must be “balanced” against a lesser administrative body’s mandate.

Admittedly, it may be difficult to find a strict constitutionalist in a country that lacks a strict constitution, but were Canadians more engaged in — or at least aware of — the process by which the Supreme Court is formed, judicial appointments would come with much more accountability.

From religious freedom to mandatory minimum sentences to something as seemingly trivial as driving beer across provincial boundaries, in all of these areas the Supreme Court has ruled against what most would describe as the conservative position. Even after 10 years of a Conservative government that appointed six of the nine current Supreme Court justices. Even Richard Wagner, the new Chief Justice, was appointed by Stephen Harper.

While Canadian Conservatives sound the alarm about Supreme Court rulings, they should actually be looking to the lawmakers who had a hand in shaping the court that made them. Like the Senate, the Supreme Court’s makeup and influence outlast the government of the day: justices in Canada are appointed until they turn 75. Not the lifetime appointment that exists on the bench in the United States, but still a term that can span decades.

While I’m sympathetic to the argument that America’s approach to the Supreme Court is far too polarized, I will take that over Canada’s ambivalence to it. The polarization is a byproduct of a country that is invested in its court in a way that Canada must be.

We wouldn’t stand for laws being passed by faceless agents in a back room, so we certainly shouldn’t be content with faceless judges interpreting them.

A new chapter

After leaving the wonderful world of daily talk radio in March, the question I’ve been fielding more than any other is, “What’s next?”

The timing made it possible for me to jump into an initiative I had already been heavily considering—a run for office. I put all other projects and possibilities on hold for my (unsuccessful) campaign, which ended on June 7th. Since then, I’ve been very quiet as I plan my next moves.

It has been a whirlwind of a few months, but I am thrilled about where I am right now. I’m at a point in my life where I have the editorial freedom and flexibility to not only work across platforms, but also tackle the issues and stories I think are the most important.

As I’ve weighed my options, these have remained priorities.

There is a common theme to much, if not most, of my work on the radio and in columns—the championing of democracy and freedom.

I’m delighted to announce on this Canada Day that I’m starting a fellowship at the True North Initiative, a fantastic think tank devoted to the preservation of liberty and sound immigration policy in Canada, kicking off Monday, July 2 with a live broadcast on Facebook—something I’ll be doing weekly, in addition to creating other content.

I will continue to write columns for a variety of publications as a freelancer, and will be able to take on more speaking engagements across North America (which you can inquire about here).

I’ll also be keeping the blog here updated with appearances, published work, and some original columns as well.

This is a new chapter for me, but an exciting one. I’m so grateful to have you on the journey with me!

“Go kill yourself”: How social media mobs are hurting democracy

When the emotions of politics and the impetuousness of social media fuse, the result isn’t pretty. Social media, which can be a cesspool at the best of times, morphs into something unrecognizable during elections.

It may look like noise to an outsider, but when your name is the one in the line of fire, it comes at a cost.

During a brief stint as a politician this spring, I had a front row seat to my own dehumanization, when, as a PC candidate in Ontario’s June 7 election, my social media history made headlines.

I went viral—and not in the charming toddler-crashes-BBC-interview or Chewbacca-mom-laughs sort of way. My Twitter mentions were so voluminous that my phone’s battery drained in record time.

Just try to imagine that quantity. Now understand that almost every incoming tweet was negative.

The anger was directed at a slew of long-deleted postings I made nearly a decade ago. Most were ill-advised attempts at humour. With some, I couldn’t even figure out what I was getting at. I chock them up to an unfortunate combination of mental illness, immaturity and a general recklessness at that point in my life that extended far beyond Twitter.

People can decide for themselves whether they believe I’m a different person than the one depicted in those years-old snapshots. What I take issue with are the digital vigilantes—digilantes, if you will—who so cruelly and viciously attack others for being unkind on the internet, ignorant of their own hypocrisy.

A few messages still stand out.

“Do the world a favour and go kill yourself asap,” Kyle from Owen Sound ordered me. When I hadn’t heeded his request a few weeks later, he followed up.

“Seriously, like tonight would be a great night to do us all a favour and fucking end yourself you slime ball.”

On the suicide-wisher’s Facebook page was an adorable photo of him reading to two young children who were seated on his lap. I hope he wouldn’t read a message like this in the vicinity of the children—so why send it to a perfect stranger?

“I feel bad for your heart that it failed on you. Hope on the next round you don’t pull through. Fuck you asshole,” wrote Lou from Toronto.

“I hope you get gang raped,” said Ben, adding, “You don’t deserve the oxygen you breathe. Do us all a favor, let that mental illness take hold and KILL YOURSELF.”

Most of the messages were tamer of course, composed not of death wishes, but of a tired rotation of fat jokes or musing about my wife’s and my sex life. Some dedicated trolls harassed my friends and family directly, which was harder for me to stomach than what was pointed at me.

Consistent in almost all was a nastiness combined with a disinterest in genuine dialogue.

Before the crocodile tears come, know that I’m not shrouding myself in victimhood. I share these for the sake of others, be they politicians or otherwise, who aren’t able to brush off such venom.

Had I been subjected to this volume and tone of messages six or seven years ago, I would be hanging from a bridge.

Whether those urging me to kill myself would have felt any remorse if I did is irrelevant—these comments are made with no sense of consequences, and without recognition of the target’s humanity.

When Twitter and Facebook users join the chorus, they surrender their individual voices in pursuit of a singular mob voice, seeking only to add gasoline to the inferno.

What’s one more tweet when there are already thousands, right? By the same token, you’ve got to know that your insulting tweet isn’t adding anything. It serves no other purpose than virtue signaling to your followers that you’re moral and hip for attacking whichever politician, celebrity or random sap it’s en vogue to hate that hour.

When we import this phenomenon into politics, democracy is threatened.

While free speech, which, yes, includes online nastiness, is paramount to democracy, voters are setting themselves up for failure by instating litmus tests no one can pass.

Especially now. As millennials come of age to seek political office, we near the point where every political candidate will have a social media history extending back to youth.

Everyone has uttered a regrettable word or two. Some had the forethought to not log them for the public record, mind you.

Regardless, every election of the last few years has had at least an entire week or two dominated by stories of who tweeted what, and when. In the 2018 election, I was the poster boy for social media missteps, but not the only example.

I distanced myself from words that don’t reflect who I am. While we should obviously be skeptical when a politician says anything, that also must include an understanding that past comments aren’t necessarily ironclad proof of one’s present character.

Maybe someone lashed out on social media because of a mental health battle, or cracked a lewd joke that seemed funny in the moment, or perhaps genuinely advocated something they no longer believe. If no genuine person could claim to have never evolved or grown in their lives, why should politicians be held to a different standard?

How or if they’ve conquered these mistakes is a better barometer than whether they exist in the first place.

If politicians must represent a population of real people with lived experience, we can’t scare off flawed, but qualified, people from seeking office, as the status quo does. Otherwise, we’re left only with the dynastic sorts who’ve been groomed for leadership from birth, a la Justin Trudeau.

This isn’t a call for censorship, but rather a plea for sensibility among those partaking in Canada’s national conversation on social media. If you don’t work to diminish the mob’s power, you may just become its target some day.

McMaster “Tolerating Intolerance” event canceled because of intolerance of ideas

The Monty Python troupe couldn’t have written a better headline.

A Hamilton, Ont. free speech event has been canceled due to “concerns about the safety of the event.”

McMaster University was to play host to the panel, titled “Tolerating Intolerance: A Discussion on Free Speech.”

The event was canceled by its organizers, the anti-poverty group Overcome the Gap, who said in a statement that “it would be difficult to convene the civil balanced discourse we were hoping to have on this important issue.”

Two of the three panelists had arranged travel from out of the province, to address the themes of free speech and open discussion from the time of Mao to the present day.

I haven’t even seen evidence of any large-scale campaigns to have the event canceled, prompting me to fear that just a few complaints were enough.

When three professors of history, philosophy and psychology are deemed to pose a danger to the fabric of a university campus, there isn’t much else to say.

I’ve offered to moderate the discussion in London, or in another city, if the participants are interested. Unlike the organizers of this event, I won’t back down.